Chick Flick Moments Can Help
by DaSwampRat'sCherie
Summary: Mild SPOILERS for Captain America: Civil War. "Wanda was silent so Clint sighed and kept driving, wondering why he was always in these situations for heart-to-hearts."
I'm still bitter about Whedon's choice to give Clint a family, so I disregard that and gleefully promote Matt Fraction's comics instead

Disclaimer: Aw, Marvel, No

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"So. This is awkward," Clint started, eyes darting over to her before returning to the road and fingers tapping restlessly against the steering wheel.

She was silent, so he sighed and kept driving. Wondered why he was always in situations for heart-to-hearts when he was possibly the most emotionally constipated human out there.

"It's not like Vision can't take a few hits. He'll bounce back like a fucking squirrel or something," which not only made _no sense_ , but also didn't seem to help.

If anything, he'd made it worse (surprise, surprise) and she just slumped further into the seat and stared dramatically out the window.

"That comment about fear," he began again. "You know I'm not afraid of you, ri - ?"

"Enough."

It wasn't rude, wasn't in the least bit harsh. Just incredibly tired.

But don't let anyone say he couldn't take a hint, because he decided to take the cue and let Wanda stew in her own thoughts rather than pressure her too much.

It was late as fuck, and honestly he was _retired_ , dammit. Was living high on the hog with Lucky and protecting the citizens from Russian Vampires and was quite content to stay out of this whole 'Avengers' thing for a while. But he was also a sucker - especially when Cap used those goddamn, fucking puppy eyes - and couldn't say no when informed of some raging psycho who wanted to bring even more raging psychos to life to rule the galaxy or the -

"They have every right to be afraid," she commented slowly, as if trying the sentence out for the first time.

"A shitton of people are afraid of heights; it doesn't mean the height itself is in the wrong, or even particularly dangerous," Clint rebutted almost immediately, mildly impressed with how inspirational and shit that was.

"This is different and you know it," she bit back, the words holding the bitterness the others lacked.

"How?" He flicked on the turn signal out of habit despite the fact the road was empty because it was the goddamn middle of the goddamn night.

A small, frustrated noise eeked out of her mouth - sounded just like his Katie-Kate - and her teeth made a clack each time she slammed them together in indecision for her answer.

"I can't control it like I should be able to. People get hurt. People _die_."

"People also live. Because of you," he added, tearing his eyes away from the asphalt for a beat to get his point across. It was to no avail anyway because she was steadfastly watching the roadside like she was in a music video.

"Do you know how many lives I'm responsible for taking? On purpose or otherwise?"

She didn't answer and he debated on enlightening her; these whole sharing and caring talks were supposed to focus resolutely on the kid and resolutely _not_ him. But he wasn't entirely selfish (sometimes) and could be decent (occasionally) and decided that she needed to realize she wasn't the only person with blood caking their hands.

"I was a criminal before SHIELD picked me up, and you can bet not everything was exactly cut and dry in those days. I did a lot of bad shit and then SHIELD _did_ pick me up and I did some more bad shit for a good cause."

Well, mostly a good cause. God knew how many of his missions had been from fucking Hydra.

"Then Loki, douche bag extraordinaire, came along and fucked with my head and made me responsible for basically the whole of fucking Manhattan plummeting into the ocean."

"That wasn't - "

"Why? Because I didn't do it on purpose? Because I couldn't _control_ my actions?"

The same sound from earlier echoed in her throat, and she even let out an irate huff.

"You are twisting the situations."

"I'm not the one whose perspective is skewed to hell," which wasn't really true most of the time, but in this particular instance was.

"Your brother..." he paused, still feeling queasy whenever he thought of the idea. "He died for me. I couldn't control it. I was a danger to his life for being where I was and useless as I was and he died because of it."

She gnawed on her lip. "I do not begrudge you his death. I know my brother well enough that he would do it again if it meant you lived on."

"You don't blame me? I blame myself."

The words were heavy, the only other sound the crunch of tires on gravel and that rickety ass _something_ squeaking like a fucking mouse in the back.

"I blame myself and yet you claim it wasn't my fault. You blame yourself and I claim it isn't your fault. We're something, aren't we?" He flashed a mirthless grin at her, too much fang to ever be sincere.

"So maybe we reach something of a compromise?"

She didn't say anything to that either, but he could see the metaphorical gears grinding.

"I do not...I do not think I can come to terms with it just like that. There has been too much death already for that. But..."

Wanda was silent for so long he started to wonder if his hearing aid had fizzled out, but at least she plowed on.

"I think I can perhaps stow away the guilt. At least enough to use my powers for what good they can do."

He couldn't ask for more, especially since he understood misplaced guilt all too well. Getting over this after one gay ass chick flick moment wasn't even close to reasonable, but some of his guilt was eased to know that he was at least able to help her accept her powers. Accept that they could maybe do as much good as they could bad.

"So," his voice sounded too loud and too light and too abrupt even to his own ears, but he wasn't one for dwelling in the whole emotional ratio of things so forged ahead. "Turns out there's someone else we need to pick up on our way there. Some tick-tack who can control ants with his fucking mind powers or some shit."


End file.
